Capítulo 30: Forging Discipline
The early morning sun bathed Hachi Academy's training fields in a warm, golden glow, a stark contrast to the restless energy buzzing within Orin. After his sparring session with Khan-Ra, his thoughts churned with the tiger's cryptic words. Fear is a chain. Break it.
Orin lingered in the center of the field, his claws flexing absently as he replayed the encounter in his mind. Khan-Ra's lessons had been as harsh as his strikes, and though Orin had held his own, he couldn't shake the feeling that the tiger had been holding back.
"You're up early," a familiar voice called from behind him.
Orin turned to see Wake jogging toward him, his grin wide and easy as always. "Couldn't sleep," Orin replied, brushing his hair out of his face. "Thought I'd get some practice in."
"Practice, huh?" Wake teased, dropping his bag onto the ground. "From the way you're brooding, it looks like you're gearing up for a fight."
"I'm not brooding," Orin said defensively.
"Sure, sure," Wake drawled, cracking his knuckles. "Since you're already out here, want to spar? Zeela's been in full drill-sergeant mode lately, and I need a warm-up before she drags us through whatever torture she has planned."
Orin hesitated. Normally, he would've welcomed the chance to spar, but Khan-Ra's advice still weighed on him. Could he focus on combat without losing control? Could he wield the beast without letting it overwhelm him?
Wake raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong? You afraid of losing?"
That did it. Orin stepped into the sparring ring, his claws glowing faintly. "Let's see if you can keep up."
Wake grinned, his fists igniting with energy. "That's more like it."
The two squared off, circling each other with practiced ease. Wake moved first, darting forward with a quick jab that sent ripples of energy through the air. Orin dodged, his reflexes sharp, and countered with a slash that forced Wake to leap back.
"You're faster," Wake admitted, shaking out his arms. "But let's see how you handle this."
He lunged again, his strikes coming faster now, each one amplified by Impulse Application. Orin deflected the blows, his claws sparking as they met Wake's fists. The clash of energy echoed across the field, drawing the attention of a few early risers.
"You're holding back," Wake said, ducking under Orin's swing. "Why?"
"I'm not," Orin growled, though he knew it wasn't entirely true.
"Yeah, you are." Wake countered with a quick jab to Orin's ribs, forcing him back a step. "You've got power, but you're afraid to use it."
"I'm not afraid," Orin shot back, his claws slashing forward. The strike was faster, sharper, but Wake dodged it easily.
"You are," Wake insisted, stepping back to give Orin space. "And that's fine. Fear's normal. But you've got to stop letting it hold you back."
Orin hesitated, his claws retracting slightly. "It's not that simple."
"It's exactly that simple," Wake said, his grin softening into something more sincere. "You keep treating your power like it's this separate thing, like it's going to take over. But it's not. You're the one in charge."
Orin frowned, his gaze dropping to his hands. The faint glow beneath his skin pulsed steadily, a constant reminder of the power he carried. "Khan-Ra said something similar."
Wake's expression shifted, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "The tiger guy? He came to you?"
"This morning," Orin said, nodding. "He said the beast isn't separate—it's part of me. But… what if that's the problem? What if I can't control it because it's already too much?"
Wake was silent for a moment, then clapped Orin on the shoulder. "Then you stop fighting it and start shaping it. You're not a monster, Orin. You're you. And you've got people here to back you up, no matter what."
Orin's chest tightened at the words, the sincerity in Wake's voice catching him off guard. He nodded slowly. "Thanks."
"Anytime," Wake replied with a grin. "Now, let's try that again—this time without you holding back."
The rest of the squad joined them later in the morning, the training field alive with the sounds of sparring and drills. Zeela wasted no time, setting up a series of moving targets for precision training. Orin watched as his teammates hit their marks with practiced ease, their movements sharp and deliberate.
When it was his turn, Orin stepped into the ring, his claws extending as he focused on the targets. He drew on the energy within him, letting it flow into his strikes. His first attack was too wide, sending a wave of energy that obliterated three targets instead of one.
"Too much power," Zeela observed, her tone measured. "You need to focus. Control, not brute force."
Orin nodded, frustration tightening his jaw. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he tried again. This time, his claws glowed faintly, the energy flowing in a more controlled arc. He struck out, the burst of power cutting cleanly through a single target.
"Better," Zeela said with a nod. "But you're still relying on instinct. You need to be deliberate."
Wake watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed. "Maybe he just needs a new approach."
Zeela raised an eyebrow. "You have something in mind?"
Wake grinned. "What about channeling the energy into smaller bursts? Like what I do with Impulse Application."
Orin tilted his head, intrigued. "You think that'll work?"
"Only one way to find out," Wake said, stepping into the ring. "Come on, I'll show you."
Wake demonstrated slowly, exaggerating each movement as he explained. He drew energy into his fists, holding it there before releasing it in a controlled burst. The ground beneath him trembled slightly, the impact precise and deliberate.
"It's all about control," Wake explained. "You let the energy build, but you don't let it overwhelm you. It's like holding a flame—you want it to burn, but not out of control."
Orin nodded, stepping forward to try. He closed his eyes, focusing on the energy within him. This time, he didn't push it away. He let it flow into his core, holding it steady as he imagined it condensing in his hands.
When he struck, the energy burst from his claws in a sharp, focused line, cutting cleanly through the target in front of him. The attack was smaller, more precise, and far more controlled.
Wake let out a low whistle. "Now that's what I'm talking about."
Zeela nodded in approval. "Good. Keep refining that, and you'll be dangerous."
Orin allowed himself a small smile, the first genuine one in days. For the first time since Fang Ridge, he felt like he was moving in the right direction—not just as a fighter, but as himself.
That evening, Orin lingered on the edge of the training field, his thoughts quieter than usual. The whispers of the beast were still there, but they no longer felt like an enemy. They felt like a part of him—wild, untamed, but not insurmountable.
For the first time, Orin felt like he could breathe.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder